


Unreality

by Willa Shakespeare (AnonEhouse)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Amnesia, M/M, Memory Related, Mild S&M, Post Gauda Prime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-17
Packaged: 2017-12-12 04:03:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/807012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/Willa%20Shakespeare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Avon is quite content with his life. His job repairing used computers and other abused tech isn't particularly exciting, but his sex life with the owner of the nearby machine shop makes up for it. Roj knows just how much Avon likes pain and domination.</p><p>Avon's not happy about the nightmares and headaches he sometimes gets, and sometimes he gets confused as to what's real, and what's not, but Blake is always there to straighten him out.</p><p>He doesn't know what he'd do without Blake. It's not as if they have a relationship, you know. It's just that they complement each other sexually. That's all. He's not looking for roses and candlelit dinners. Just... he doesn't want to mess up and lose Blake. He needs him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unreality

**Author's Note:**

> Originally begun for the 2009 IMOP porn a day challenge. I dug it out and finished it over 3 years later- hope the seam doesn't show. :^)

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

"No." Avon turned away from Blake. "You're dead."

"Will you still say that when I've had you?"

"Yes." Avon's fists clenched. "I shot you. I smelled the blood. I felt your hands on my arms as you died." He was still looking at the blank wall in front of him instead of the man behind him.

"It was a scenario. It went too far." Blake put his hands on Avon's shoulders and turned him around. "You thought it would add spice to our relationship if you weren't submissive. If I had to fight you to earn your respect, your love, your obedience."

"I don't believe you." But Avon wanted to believe.

Blake opened Avon's shirt and ran his hand over the nipple rings. "Do you remember the day I had you pierced?"

"No." Avon shook his head. "I've been drugged. You could have done it then, the same time you had your face repaired."

"You always were a stubborn little bitch." Blake finished taking off Avon's shirt. "So, this isn't real, but the rings are?"

Avon jerked his head to one side. "I was... trying to decide."

"If it's a drugged dream, what does it matter what I do to you? And if it's real, then you're mine, and you've always been mine." Blake unfastened Avon's trousers and lowered them.

"And the rebellion?"

"Part of the scenario. You wanted to see me as a hero. There's no rebellion. Corruption and incompetence are about as usual." Blake was stroking Avon's body while he talked. "You work in a computer shop. I own a small machine shop. Neither of us is a genius at anything, let alone computers or manipulation."

Avon's breath was ragged. "Actually, you're not that bad at manipulation." Tentatively, Avon leaned his head against Blake's shoulder, feeling the rightness of long familiarity in the motion. "It seemed so real."

"You took the drugs yourself. Black-market stuff; who knows what was in it. For a while I thought I'd have to call an ambulance." Blake kissed his way down Avon's body, tonguing the nipple rings and licking at Avon's cock. He looked up at Avon. "How do you feel now?"

Avon smiled. "Much better." His cock was definitely feeling better. He remembered the computer shop. He also remembered they were both on lunch break, which wouldn't last much longer going by the clock on the back wall of Blake's shop.

Blake grinned. "Then assume the position."

Avon spread himself over the workbench padded with a folded up towel, and moaned softly as Blake began fucking him. For a moment he thought he saw a woman with close-cropped black hair watching him from the doorway, and then he dismissed the image as a fading remnant of hallucination. He had Blake, and he was never going to lose him again.

***

Avon worked contentedly on the broken A.I. his hands functioning independently of the majority of his mind, which was on Blake. This one was a ship's control unit, fairly complex, but nothing to the Perspex data-retrieval, interpreting, and extrapolating unit that had occupied his time last week. He brought it on-line and tested the responses: Within normal parameters. He placed a green 'Repair Ok' tag on it, and shut it down. He'd finished early tonight. He wouldn't wait for Blake, he'd go to meet him at his shop.

Avon was thinking about other repair jobs in the shop and not paying attention to his surroundings. He let his feet automatically take him to Blake's shop. It wasn't far. That was how they'd met in the first place, both of them on the street looking for a quick meal before returning to work. Avon didn't really believe in gaydar, but when he noticed Blake admiring him, he'd admired back and it had worked out.

He pushed open the door to Blake's shop. A balding man was arguing with Blake, but he went silent and fled at Avon's approach. "Who was that?" Avon asked.

Blake shrugged. "Dissatisfied customer." He shoved some papers off his desk and into a drawer, which he locked. "You're early."

"I finished one job, but didn't have enough time to make it worthwhile to start another." Avon grinned. "I thought I might start something with you, instead."

Blake pulled Avon into his arms and kissed him. "I had a bed moved into the back room. Go and wait for me. I'll just lock up."

Avon obeyed, stripping and lying down on his belly after lubing himself. Blake was a very considerate dom. Avon's back had been bothering him from some of the more creative positions they'd tried. He sighed and spread his legs. It was good to have Blake taking care of him.

He heard Blake enter the room, and then the rustle as he undressed. "You are so very beautiful, Avon. I think you have the nicest arse I've ever fucked."

Avon smiled into the pillow as Blake mounted him.

***

Avon fell asleep afterwards. Usually he managed to make it back to his one-room flat before succumbing, but this time he was simply too comfortable to stay awake. He felt Blake withdraw from him and kiss the back of his neck, then he went black.

It wasn't the voices that woke him later, but the cold. Blake's bed didn't have the thick duvet his own possessed. He woke up meaning to dress and go back to his own place; after all, Blake hadn't invited him to spend the night, he never did. It wasn't that sort of relationship. They had permanence, and space, too. They each had their own work to do. You can't live on love.

He had his trousers on before he heard the woman's voice raised in anger. He paused. The shop was shut. Was Blake in trouble? Perhaps he had walked in on a burglar. Avon looked around for a weapon, finally settling on a spanner.

He opened the door and stepped out into the main room. The woman with cropped black hair was threatening Blake with a knife. Avon raised the spanner. The woman turned. "Avon!" she shouted as he saw her face for the first time.

Avon heard the spanner hit the deck... the floor... the deck. He felt as if he'd been dropped into space. There was nothing supporting him. His head was so light. His knees were unstrung. He remotely felt himself hit the ground... the deck... the floor. His eyes shut and he couldn't move, but he could hear.

"Get out!" Blake shouted. "Look what you've done!"

"Look what _I've_ done! You can't..."

"I can, and I will! Get out!" Avon heard a scuffle and then the slam of the outer door. Then Blake picked him up and carried him back to bed. 

Avon didn't understand any of it. He was relieved when he finished passing out.

***

Avon woke in Blake's bed. Blake was sitting in a chair, watching him. For once his expression was serious instead of lascivious. "How do you feel, Avon?"

"I have a headache." Avon sat up and held his head in both hands. "What happened? Who was that woman?"

"What woman? Can you describe her?"

Avon opened his mouth to protest that Blake knew very well what woman, but before he could say it, her image faded from his memory. "I... I didn't get a good look. She seemed to be threatening you."

Blake looked at him a long moment. "Oh, her. Just another dissatisfied customer."

"Two In one day? That seems excessive."

"Leave it, Avon."

Avon closed his mouth. "Yes. You're right. It's your business, not mine." Avon stood up and reached for the rest of his clothes. "I should be getting back to my own place."

Blake held out a hand. "Are you sure you're fit? Can you make it on your own?"

Avon wasn't sure at all. He felt sick. But he didn't intend to be an object of charity. He might be only a computer repairman, but he had his pride. "I'm fine." He finished dressing, kissed Blake and left the shop.

He made it back to his own room and locked the door before reaction hit. Reaction to what, he thought as he crashed down again onto his knees on the floor, deck, floor damn it! His vision wavered and he had to fight to bring reality back into focus. His room. His shabby little, safe little, place where nothing bad happens. Nothing happens. Nothing ever happens here. He knelt, panting, until everything stabilized. Must have hit his head when he fell before. Fainted before. Why did he faint? Maybe he should go to a doctor.

Bile rose in his throat at the thought. "No. No, I'm fine. Just need sleep. That's all." 

Avon fell into bed fully clothed. His dreams were full of blood.

***

Avon overslept, and in consequence showed up at work hastily showered, roughly combed, and unbreakfasted. His red-haired boss took in his appearance with a glance. "You look like hell, Kerr. Why don't you take the day off and get some rest?"

"No, thanks. I'd like to catch up on the backlog." Sleep hadn't been restful at all. Work was soothing. It was good to have control over something that had simple problems and simple solutions.

His boss shrugged. "There's that personal transport system and the ship's drive still to do, take your choice."

"I'll take the transport. The drive is going to need a total rebuild. It would probably be cheaper to buy a new one." The customers often brought in rubbish like that. Well, it was their money. 

Avon was relaxed after a few hours work of replacing cracked components, adjusting settings, and teasing out contaminants—honestly, people who place their holiday pine trees on their transport deserve to be flogged. MMm... flogging... no, Avon had promised himself he wouldn't indulge until he had a three-day weekend. Blake was able to shut his shop whenever he liked – Avon suspected he had other resources—but Avon had a nine-to-five with an easy-going boss that he wanted to keep and calling in sick because your arse was too whipped to sit at a repair bench was unlikely to be a good career move.

He was so relaxed that he didn't look up when the door opened, assuming it to be his boss with another load of parts or broken electronics. Then the door lock clicked.

"Avon."

He looked up then, into the face of the woman of his hallucinations, the beautiful one with the cropped black hair. His vision went double again. He saw her looking at him, and he saw her lying on the floor, large eyes wide in death. His hands shook and he dropped his laser probe. He was going mad. 

"Avon," she said again, and moved towards him, slowly, but with a look of determination on her face. "Avon, think. You know me."

Avon shook his head and backed up. The woman came closer. "I'll make you remember me." She kissed him. Avon's breath came sharply.

"Remember." She slid her hands down the front of his jumpsuit, fondling him. "Remember how it used to be?"

Avon swallowed hard. "I... I'm not... not attracted to women."

She chuckled. "You're attracted to strength, Avon. To strength. You don't really care how it's packaged. I'm strong. Let me prove it to you."

"My boss," he protested weakly because she was right; he was aroused by her.

"I sent him away. By the time he discovers he's on a pointless errand, you'll remember me. I'll make you remember." She opened and tugged down Avon's jumpsuit, and then took off her own clothes. She smiled and pushed him back onto his chair and locked it in place.

"Blake..."

She put her finger against his lips. "No. Maybe you want to belong to him, but doesn't he take you for granted?" She straddled the chair and rubbed against his erection.

"It's not like that. He doesn't own me. It's..."

"Well, then, why not have a little fun with me?" She rose up and guided him into her. 

Avon gasped.

"He doesn't let you fuck him, does he?" She began moving on him and Avon couldn't help responding, thrusting in as deeply as the awkward position allowed.

"I don't... don't want to..." Avon moaned and pulled her down for a kiss.

She smiled and said softly, "How's your headache, Avon?"

"I think you've cured it." He smiled for a moment before images flooded his mind and pain struck. He screamed and his erection collapsed inside of her.

"Avon!" She pulled him to the ground, but couldn't hold him still as he went into convulsions. "AVON!"

Avon was dimly aware of a crashing sound as of the door splintering, and Blake's voice roaring in rage and his boss's quiet babbling. Then he was held against Blake's strong chest. "It will be all right, Avon. You don't have to remember. You're not ready, not yet. Easy, Avon, easy." Blake stroked his hair and kissed his forehead.

For a moment he knew. He knew. He screamed again in agony. And then Deva injected him with a sedative, and his last sight was Dayna's face with tears streaming down.

He woke in Blake's bed with a terrific headache. Blake smiled at him. "You've been working too hard. I talked your boss into giving you a week off." Blake picked up a short leather flogger.

Avon smiled.

***

Avon lay on Blake's bed, totally at peace, limbs sprawled every which way. His arse was sore inside and out and the whip strokes across his legs burned like fire, but his head was blissfully empty. It was as if he had a quota of pain to fulfill, and his only choice was the type. So, he'd admitted he was a masochist; there wasn't anything terribly unusual in that. 

He wasn't sure his headaches were normal even for masochists, though. For a while he lay there with his eyes shut, perversely amusing himself by imagining terminal brain disorders, and lying on a bed, the center of attention, with Blake and his boss and a group of shadowy other people all gathered around solemnly. Blake was raging against the diagnosis, vowing that he wouldn't lose Avon, no matter what it took.

It was a very vivid fantasy, except for the shadow people. They disturbed him. It should be just him and Blake. He opened his eyes abruptly to force himself away from the dream, and found himself looking into Blake's face. Blake was... he had an odd expression. He looked almost... guilty. Why? Avon didn't mind Blake admiring his nakedness, or watching while he slept. As kinks went that was so universal it wasn't worth commenting upon. Did Blake have another sex-partner? Well... that would be all right. Somehow. It wasn't as if he'd promised Avon faithfulness.

Avon dragged himself up onto his elbows. "I had a dream." He wasn’t sure why he said that. Perhaps just to distract Blake in case he was intending to confess something that Avon didn't want to hear.

"Oh?" Blake didn't seem any too pleased about that. "Are you hungry? I could make you something to eat before you go."

Avon was unreasonably annoyed. Hadn't he been glad that all they had was sex, with no strings tied? Blake was always here when he wanted him, what more could he ask? He wasn't looking for lace curtains and calendars with chores marked on it. Still, Blake could at least pretend to be interested in his dreams before getting him out of the way. "You were in my dream."

Blake turned away. "I can make hotcakes, the mix is all ready. You always like them."

"What always? I never..." Avon looked at Blake's shoulders, stiff with tension. "I... I'm not remembering everything. Am I?"

"No, Avon. You're not." Blake turned back to face him. "But you will." Blake seemed sad at the thought.

Avon pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around them. He put his head down on his knees and muttered, "Things... come and go." He said softly, "Sometimes I still have the dream where we fought. Where I killed you."

"You didn't, Avon. I am really alive. That much you must believe."

Avon looked up. "But did I try to kill you?" 

Blake was silent for a long moment. "Yes."

Avon shivered. "I think I'd better go back to my own place." He got up and began looking for his clothes.

"Not yet, Avon. Not yet." Blake put his arms around Avon and held him. Avon didn't resist, but neither did he respond.

"I think I’m going mad." He was pleased that his voice remained calm.

"No, Avon. You're going sane. It's much harder. I know." Blake kissed him on the forehead. "No matter how things turn out, remember this. I will always be your friend."

"I'm not sure I want to be sane," Avon said. He liked his life. It was comfortable, productive and demanded nothing more than he could give. Even Blake demanded nothing he wasn't able to give.

Avon didn't care whether or not he was living up to his potential. Oh, he did remember his childhood, and the pressure to justify his existence to his family, to his teachers, and finally to his employers. Be the best. Excel. Strive. Fight and kick and claw your way to... what? To loneliness and always more fighting. You have to win every contest. Losing means disgrace.

"I don't think you get the choice," Blake said. "Once you're healed you'll see things as they really are. And me as I really am." 

Blake didn't sound terribly happy about the prospect. Avon shunted that off as something else he didn't want to think about. "And how are you, really? Scarred, crippled?"

"No. No, nothing like that." Blake sighed. "You didn't like me before, that's all."

"You mean, the me I was didn't like the you that was... this is ridiculous. I suspect I won't like myself."

"Perhaps not." Blake hugged Avon tightly. "I always liked you, though. Even when you went out of your way to make that difficult."

"I never."

Blake laughed, soft and rough against his ear, the sound as comforting as a warm blanket thrown over chilled shoulders. "Always, Avon." The affection in his voice was obvious. "You took out your perversity on me with words, not sex."

"Well, that was stupid. So at least I'm less of an idiot these days." Avon didn't really see any point to returning to that. "Is there any way we can make sure I don't remember?"

Blake drew in a sharp breath, an audible gasp. "No. No, Avon, don't think that way. Your friends already hate me for carrying on with this, with you, when you wouldn't have agreed to it before." 

"How do you know I wouldn't? Had I turned you down?" Avon was fairly sure amnesia, for whatever cause, didn't affect your sexual orientation or 'type'. He was certain he'd have always found Blake to be sexually magnetic.

"No. We were too busy quarreling. There was never an appropriate moment. And there were..." Blake paused and then continued. "You had a past, Avon. There had been other people, at least one woman you'd loved and lost. You wouldn't even discuss her with me. You said I wouldn't understand."

Avon's head hurt. He didn't want to think about things that made his head ache.

"I want you to get better. Some of your problem is physical. You'd been hit on the head a lot since I last saw you, your friends told me. And then when we met again- it was a mess. Things got out of hand. We'd both been under a lot of stress, and we couldn't read each other the way we used to. We both made mistakes. We both got hurt. And when you woke up, you didn't remember. Worse than that, you wouldn't even stay awake. We got a doctor... we got several doctors. They argued and couldn't agree on anything except that there wasn't enough physical damage to account for you waking up, looking around and passing out again. So we got another kind of doctor."

"You're saying I don't just have amnesia? I'm insane?" Avon's headache now had competition with nausea. Amnesia was fine. Insanity. No. He didn't feel insane. He could still repair things, carry on conversations that relate to the real world. But do they? Blake's saying that Avon's been living in a dream, a false reality, because he couldn't face the truth. Whatever the truth is.

"NO! No, you're not. And he's not that kind of doctor. He's a psychostrategist."

"Who?"

Blake pulled back slightly and looked into Avon's eyes. After a moment he nodded. "You never met him. His name is Carnell. He'd studied you... studied all of us, back when... the time you have to remember on your own. He told us what you needed in order to be able to remember again." Blake closed his eyes for a moment. "You need to be punished. And you need to have me do it."

"Because you're the one I hurt most." It felt right.

"That's how you see it, Carnell said. I don't..."

"You don't want to do it?" Avon was seriously having to fight the urge to vomit. "You're not really getting off on the domination and sadism?"

Blake shook his head. "I don't want to enjoy it, but I do, Avon. I never acknowledged that part of myself, but I do."

"So... you're saying you're basically raping yourself as part of my therapy. I think. I need to sit down." Things were rapidly going gray and his knees were going unstrung. He heard Blake mutter a curse and then he was sitting in a chair, bent over with his head between his knees and Blake's big, warm hand at the back of his neck. Avon said, "I hate this."

"You're doing very well," Blake said. His thumb ran in soothing circles on Avon's neck. "Usually you pass out screaming long before now."

"Oh, joy," Avon muttered.

Blake chuckled. It sounded a little forced. "Avon... I'm not being raped. My mind is clear and I'm fully capable of giving consent. And I do. The reason I feel guilt about what I do to you is that you aren't... you don't have the full picture, your consent is dubious at best."

Avon mulled that over. "So. Until I remember, you consider that you're raping me every time we have sex?"

Blake's hand stilled for a second before it resumed. "I'm afraid so."

Avon closed his eyes. "And nothing I can say will change that?"

"Not until you remember. And then it'll be your turn to decide whether or not to forgive me."

Avon grabbed Blake's free hand and pulled it close. "If I blame you for putting yourself through hell to save me, then I'm the world's biggest idiot." He kissed Blake's hand. "I had hoped I'd been a fairly intelligent man."

Blake said softly, "You were a genius."

"Oh, well." Avon rubbed his cheek against Blake's hand. The headache and nausea were gone. "Then it'll be all right. I... I don't want to give this up. Us. Even if things change between us. Do you think that's possible?"

"Oh, yes, Avon." Blake's other hand moved to his back, stroking, warm and familiar, a weight that supported rather than oppressed. "Why else do we fight?"

Avon smiled.


End file.
